“Did you do the things the Guild asked you to?” I ask, steering our conversation away from Jost.
“Yes,” Erik says. “I always did what they asked. I never saw any reason not to.”
He didn’t see anything wrong with manipulating people’s minds? With unwinding their bodies? “Why did you change your mind?” I ask. I need him to redeem himself. “You told me you were trapped at the Coventry. You helped me escape.”
Erik’s face hints at a smile, but it’s a sad one and he shakes his head. “I get to keep a few secrets.”
“Yes, you do.” I incline my head and meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”
“You’re stronger than you think, Ad,” Erik says, his hand reaching for his cheek.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I definitely didn’t deserve to be slapped though,” Erik says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There are repercussions for slapping your friends.”
“There are, huh?” I ask, waiting to see what Erik’s idea of a fair punishment for a slap is. His hands stay on the tiled edge of the pool, but he leans in toward me, shrinking the space between us.
And then his arms reach up and pull me down into the pool with him. We plunge into the water, and I struggle frantically, kicking my legs and pushing against Erik’s arms. When we surface, I gasp for air, spluttering a stream of foul-mouthed names at him.
“You’re only a little wet,” Erik says, dropping his hands from my waist.
I throw my arms around his shoulders, clutching at him. “No, idiot, I can’t swim!”
Erik’s head pops back a fraction of an inch to appraise me.
“Not everyone was raised in a fishing village,” I remind him.
“You like water. You love the ocean,” he says.
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I know how to swim. My family didn’t live near the ocean. I doubt even my mom knew—
“Your bathtub at the Coventry was huge,” Erik says, a guilty look settling over his face. His arms wrap tightly around my waist and I relax against him, feeling safe enough to enjoy the gentle airy pressure of the water.
“I could touch the bottom of my bathtub,” I say.
“Here,” Erik says, pushing me away from him. I shriek and splash, trying to stop him. “Put your feet down.”
My legs are still stroking against the water in frantic, helpless circles. “Don’t let me go,” I tell him.
He nods, and I relax my legs, surprised when my toes find the smooth grid of the tiled floor. The tension in my chest deflates a little, but I don’t let go of Erik’s arm. I make a mental note to ask my mom if she knows how to swim. She has no reason not to tell me. Another innocent question to fall back on.
“I’m going to teach you how to swim,” Erik says, drawing me back to the moment. “I’ll never forgive myself if you drown.”
“I’m not in the habit of jumping into large bodies of water,” I say, “but I’d like to learn how to swim.”
Erik’s hand squeezes my hip and I rest against him for a moment until I disentangle myself and take a tentative step without his help. Now that I can touch the bottom, my initial panic is subsiding. Still, I don’t go more than a few feet from Erik. He nods encouragingly and stops me when I get too close to the deep end.
After a few minutes, I remember I’m still fully dressed and I tiptoe to the end of the pool, careful to keep my head above water. Erik glides toward me, his hands lifting me out of the pool.
“Thank you,” I say, allowing myself to linger a moment on the edge, his hands still low on my hips.
“Don’t worry, Ad,” Erik says, pushing out into the water. “I’ll never let you go.”
TWENTY-SIX
“DANTE TOLD ME TAILORS AREN’T ALL BAD,” I say to Erik as we exit the pool complex into the cool night. The air creeps along my damp skin, whistling a chill down into my bones and I clutch my towel tightly.
“We aren’t,” Erik says. “I personally have a disproportionate amount of badness.”
“You talk big, but what can you do?” I challenge him.
“Are you asking me to alter something?” Erik says, stopping in his tracks.
I pause, realizing I’ve upset him. “Only if you want to.”
“What do you want me to alter?” he asks.
“Make something beautiful,” I tell him, thinking to add, “without hurting it.”
If Dante is telling the truth and alteration can be used for positive ends, I need proof of it. It feels like I’ve only seen it used for destruction on Earth. I used it myself, by accident, to bring down the aeroship and to destroy the factory. It makes me uncomfortable that even my alteration training is focused on one thing: honing my unwinding skills to protect myself in a fight. I want to see something that proves being a Tailor doesn’t make me a monster—any more than I already am.
Erik stops me and pulls me toward a manicured bush near the walkway. “Do you know what these are?” he asks.
I shake my head. Despite being pruned, there are no leaves or needles—nothing to indicate what kind of plant it is.
“Rosebushes.” Erik reaches into the branches that tangle over one another like a series of veins.
“There are no roses,” I say, wishing there were. My desire is fervent and sudden like in the moment before being kissed.
“They’ve died. These bushes were in bloom when we came to the estate. What happened?”
I shake my head. I have no clue.
“He uses Tailors to bring them in and out of season,” Erik says. His fingers move over the branches so swiftly I can’t quite see what he’s doing. But even though I’ve always suspected there was something special about Erik, seeing him now I’m in awe. The branch in his hands trembles slightly as new leaves burst forth in a shower of green, and as I watch a bud develops from a tight knot into a cocoon bursting with life. The leaves unfold gently, revealing the treasure underneath.
Erik pulls it from the bush and holds it out to me. I manage a small smile. My father used to bring my mother flowers, but no man has ever given me one. I take the rose and press my nose into its soft bloom, inhaling the sweet scent. The rose is snow white, and its petals velvet against my fingers. My eyes peek up at Erik, who is smiling, with his hand still outstretched. There’s a spot of blood on the top of his hand. I drop the rose and grab it.
“You’ve hurt yourself,” I say.
“Every rose has its thorns, Adelice,” he says, pulling it back from me and stooping to retrieve the rose. “It was worth it.”
“Can you show me more?” I ask, gingerly holding the rose to avoid being pricked. “What else can you do?”
“Yes.” Dante’s voice breaks the moment. “What else can you do, Erik?”
Erik’s eyes dart to mine, but I shake my head. I haven’t told Dante anything of my suspicions.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
Dante steps forward and regards me with barely concealed fury. “Why apologize to him? He lied to you, Adelice.”
“He wouldn’t be the first person to have lied to me,” I remind Dante.
“You didn’t forgive me quite so quickly if I recall,” Dante says.
“I didn’t know you.”
“And you know him?” Dante asks. “What else haven’t you told her, Erik? What have you done for the Guild? Why were they tracking you?”
“Tracking me?” Erik says. He looks from Dante to me. I give him a tiny nod to confirm it’s true.
“Dante found a tracking chip in your arm.”
“That’s what you were playing at,” Erik says. His voice pitches up an octave. “Whatever you found, I didn’t know it was there. The Guild can’t track me here. I knew you had an endgame for